A Brief Summary of Every HP Fanfic Ever Written
by Viskii
Summary: It's not brief, or a summary, or every Harry Potter fanfiction ever. It is humor uploaded stupidly and sporadically for your enjoyment. Chapter One: Harry Goes Shopping at Protagonist Mart. There should be a genre for it. I need a life. And some nachos.
1. In Which Shopping Solves All

So, don't expect plot. Don't expect updates. Don't expect much of anything. This is just for fun. So have fun, dammit. Or else.

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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written  
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_**In Which Shopping Solves All Harry's Problems**_

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"Merlin, girl, I'm beat." Hedwig looked up from the scrap of newspaper she was pooping on—coincidently a photo of esteemed Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge—and blinked at Harry. He hauled the last pair of shopping bags through the doorway and threw them on the pile.

"Hoot?" Hedwig inquired. She'd been waiting in this Leaky Cauldron suite for hours, and hoped there were fresh mice somewhere in Harry's mound of purchases.

"Yes, we're staying here. No one would think to look for me in the only hotel in the Wizarding World," Harry explained. "Besides, if I had to haul this stuff any further from Diagon Alley my arms would give out."

"Hoot."

"Exactly. Want to see what I got?"

"Hoot." Harry, being a parselmouth rather than a hootingmouth, mistook the phrase "not likely" for "I'd love too!"

Hedwig, being an owl and not a wizard, mistook the giant scroll he was unrolling for an encyclopedia rather than a receipt. She was disabused of this notion when Harry read it aloud:

_Dueling Robes, hand-sewn by elfin royalty and purified for three hundred years in the fires of Mt. Doom, complete with standard anti-jinx, anti-hex, anti-curse, anti-Unforgiveable, anti-Death Eater, anti-death, anti-bacterial and other standard Quality A Triple-Plus Grade Charms™ -five pair_

_Dragonhide boots crafted by the Goblin King Grugdalo in 1344 for his majesty the emperor of Atlantis. Fire, water, earth, air, lightning, insect, poison, mud, snow, slush, muddy slush, burning coal and brimstone resistant. Allows the wearer to control the weather at all times. Offer valid in Wisconsin. Some restrictions apply. See store for details. -two pair_

_Traveling cloak of Immortal Doom worn by Rowana Ravenclaw herself during battle; believed to have originated from a higher dimension of being, smites all of evil intent within ten yards. -one pair_

_Ultimate indestructible power strength enhancing gloves, added charms for durability, flexibility, an exponential strength increase of seventy-nine percent, and increased ability in all organized sports worldwide. -one pair_

_Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans -four bags_

_Slytherin's daggers, dipped in the deadliest of poisons and invisible to all but their bearer. -one set of six_

_Helga Hufflepuff's Eternal Crossbow of Immortal Peril -one_

_Extra wand, fourteen inches, wood from the legendary forbidden tree of Eden, core of pure gold spun into a strand and braided with a thread of lava-fire and a hair from Godric's beard. -one_

_Extra extra wand, wood unknown, core unknown, made and used by Merlin himself. -one_

"_Super cool" wand holster, emperor-issue, imported from a tiny, anonymous Amazon village, woven by the high priest himself only on nights of the full moon, soaked in the blood of dragons and the tears of phoenixes, and spelled with every possible enhancement while immersed in the waters of the fountain of youth for thirty-one days and nights. -three_

_Excalibur -one_

_Trunk, leather with brass trimmings; six compartments, opens into multiple dimensions. -one_

_Exclusive All-You-Could-Ever-Need Potions kit, containing not only an ample quantity of every potions ingredient ever discovered (including those of questionable legality), thirty-two different Master-grade cauldrons, ninety-seven pieces of A-quality glassware, thirty-four utensils of the finest platinum, seventeen highly-accredited potions manuals, and a set of scales, but also vials containing every potion you could ever need, all in a kit the size of a matchbox. -one_

_Books:_

_Thirty-two Easy Ways to Take Out a Dark Lord__, by Grindelwald_

_Where Bellatrix Lestrange is Right Now__, by Rodolphus Lestrange_

_So Some Idiot Divination Professor's Made a Prophecy About You__, by Gryffindor_

_I Know Where He Hid the Horcruxes__, by R.A.B._

_I Know Who R.A.B. Is__, by Sirius Black_

_The Secret Diary of Draco Malfoy: A Full Confession__ by Draco Malfoy_

_The Ins and Outs of Illegal Portkeys, Unlicensed Apparation, and Other Important Stuff They Won't Teach You in School__, by A. Moody_

_How to Obtain Mastery of Seventeen Subjects in Four Hours or Less__, by Rowena Ravenclaw_

_My Secret Plans (Vol. I- Horcruxes)__, by Lord Voldemort_

_My Secret Plans (Vol. II- Harry Potter)__, by Lord Voldemort_

_Build Your Own Time Turner: A Beginner's Guide to Bringing Back Dead Friends and Family__, anonymous_

_Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About that Creepy Veil in the Department of Mysteries but were Afraid to Ask__, by the Ministry of Magic, Unspeakables division_

_How to Utilize a Life Debt to its Fullest Potential__, by some dead pureblood_

_Jinxes, Hexes and Curses We Haven't Learned to Block Yet__, by Death Eater training division 741-B _

_Uber-powerful Spells to Vaporize You-Know-Who__, by Ollivander_

_Founder's Heirlooms that Could, in the Future, Make Good Horcruxes__, by Helga H._

_Constant Vigilance!: A Hero's Guide to Winning at Everything, All the Time__ by A. Moody_

_Prophecy Interpretation for Dummies__, Albus Dumbledore_

_How to do Underage Magic without Getting Caught__, by F. & G. W._

_There Might Possibly Be a Secret Room in the Chamber of Secrets that Contains All Knowledge of Everything. Maybe. I'm Just Suggesting It's Worth a Look__, by Salazar Slytherin_

_-one each, twenty total_

_Bill total: Six million three hundred thirty five thousand, seven hundred sixty-four galleons, six sickles, four knuts._

_Thank you for shopping with us!_

_Protagonist's Emporium—for all your Dark Lord-hunting needs!_

"Hoot…?"

"Oh, I know the check'll bounce," Harry agreed, "but hopefully not before Voldemort surrenders."

"Hoot!"

"Well, I've never failed to beat him after similar shopping trips, have I?"

"Hoot."

"So it stands to reason he'll just give up now before he gets his arse handed to him. He's not that inept, right?"

"Hoot."

"I'm glad you agree."

Just then an evil-looking owl—complete with Dark Mark—tapped on the window. Harry took the note and the owl flew away.

_Potter—_

_I'm giving up now before I get my arse handed to me. I'm not that inept. I'm going to go live among the muggles, inspiring fear and revulsion wherever I go. _

_Sincerely, Lord V.  
"John Smith, Insurance Salesman"_

"Hoot."

And everyone who wasn't a muggle trying to buy insurance lived happily ever after. The End.


	2. In Which There are Goblins

_Why are these mimes even here???**  
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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written**_**  
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_**In Which There are Goblins, and Harry is Related to Every Deceased Person Ever  
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"Mr. Potter…" the goblin frowned, peering over his bumpy nose at Harry, who fidgeted in his seat. "This is most irregular. Are you _sure_ you haven't received correspondence from these estates?"

Harry shook his head again.

"Well then. It is my privilege to inform you that you are not only heir to the Potter and Black lines, but also the magical heir of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Merlin, Agrippa, King Arthur, King George II, Gregory the Smarmy, Belgarath the Sorcerer, Queen Maeve, Napolean, Gifford Ollerton, Monty Python, Lord Withers, Attila the Hun, Xavier Rastrick, Paul Revere, Tilly Toke, Moaning Myrtle, Indiana Jones, Justus Pilliwickle, Elvis Presley, Faris "Spout Hole" Spavin and Davy Crockett. Furthermore, you are engaged to a surprising number—and surprisingly diverse group—of exceptional young ladies, from the Queen of England to a certain Pansy Parkin—Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter, are you quite all right? Mr. Potter?"

The goblin sighed and pressed a buzzer under his desk. "Griphook? Yes, it's me. He fainted. Yes—no, it was after I told him he was engaged to—no. Yes. Yes, all right. I'll expect them immediately." He released the button, leaned back in his chair and sighed, ignoring the young wizard passed out on the cold stone floor. "Thank Elfric it's Friday."


	3. In Which There is Another BoyWhoLived

Great, undead squid. That's all we need.

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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written **

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_**In Which There is Another Boy-Who-Lived and Thus Everyone is Out of Character **_

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"HARRY JAMES POTTER! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" James Potter screamed, stomping his foot. Nearly half a dozen house elves flittered around him, trying to clean up the massive quantities of spit flying from their master's enraged mouth.

Harry bit his lip and peered through the doorway at the top of the stairs. Foam was trailing down his father's face, forming a long, frothy beard that resembled Dumbledore's to some extent. His mother knelt in the corner, comforting his brother—whose name had originally been Larry Bubba Potter, but was changed to Gabriel Nathaniel James Sirius Remus Messiah Savior Gryffindor Merlin Potter after he defeated the Dark Lord—while he wailed on and on about the injustice of tripping over his shoelace.

"YOU!" James screeched, striding forward to backhand Harry across the face. Harry fell back, hitting his head on the stairs, and the house elves tsked, worried about having more blood and guts to clean up. "YOU MADE OUR PRECIOUS GABY TRIP OVER HIS SHOELACE!"

Harry stared at his own feet, which were wrapped in thin, dirty rags because precious Gaby's worn out trainers were too good for the likes of him. He wasn't sure how he could've made Larr—er, Gabriel trip, considering he was on the other side of the house writing a thesis on the creation of Wolfsbane while practicing his wandless magic, but his father seemed adamant. Harry supposed it was one of those things he, at the age of six, was just too young to understand. Like how La—er, Gabriel, had defeated Voldemort, considering he was at their neighbor's house at the time, busy drawing all over himself with a pair of Supah Permanent Markers™, while Voldemort had come right up to Harry and cast a violent green spell at his head. But Dumbledore saw the blue and orange squiggles all over Gabriel's face and declared it was a Sign—even after they had washed off two weeks later. Fortunately Lily, who had some artistic ability, redrew them, and all was well for everyone not named Harry.

Another backhand brought Harry out of his memories. "YOU'RE THE MOST UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SNOTNOSED TOERAG ON THIS BLOODY PLANET!" James screeched. "WE GIVE YOU MOLDY BREAD EVERY TWO WEEKS, EVEN LET YOU SLEEP IN OUR OWN BASEMENT, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, AND _THIS_ IS HOW YOU REPAY US!!!!?!?!?!!!??!?!?"

"Calm down, darling," Lily murmured, putting one hand on James' shoulder. "Don't let an ungrateful little snotnosed toerag like thatdrive you to use excessive punctuation."

James took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right, dear. We'll just disown him and throw him out onto the streets."

"Sounds like a plan," Lily agreed. Larr—Gabriel began to whine for dinner. Lily scooped him into her arms and strolled towards the kitchen, while James disowned Harry and threw him out onto the freezing, icy streets.

Harry spent the next two weeks eating Dead Rat and sleeping behind the garbage cans of muggle London. He was bored at first, until he discovered that he was a natural animagus, a metamorphmagus, a parseltongue and a fire elemental—and good thing too, or he would have frozen to death the first night. He was talking to his new snake friend Silisinidi, and warming them both with his fire magic, when Severus Snape happened to walk by. Because Snape spends a lot of time in muggle London.

"Gah!" said Snape. "You're Harry Potter! I hate your father and your mother and your brother and—" Snape started to say "you," but then Harry looked up, still shivering slightly despite the fire magic, with big, tear-filled green eyes, and Snape decided to throw his own cloak around the boy's shoulders, hug him, love him and raise him as his own after binding them forever with a blood-adoption ritual. Because Snape knew the ancient, complicated, only-found-in-one-book-on-the-entire-planet blood-adoption ritual by heart, just in case something like this ever happened.

Harry was very happy living with his new dad. Snape might have brewed concoctions of questionable legality, and might have tested them on the muggle postman before Oblivating him, and might have practiced random Dark Curses on passers-by when they went out to eat, and might have been a Death Eater, but he loved Harry and Harry loved him too. Silisinidi stayed with them and hissed "awww" at the appropriate moments.

They lived in a mansion—because before Book Six came out, Snape was very, very rich, despite being a schoolteacher, and he wasn't about to give that up when the fic was AU anyway—and Harry wasn't wearing rags on his feet anymore. In fact, he had brand-new shoes and books and clothes and toys and state-of-the-art potions equipment and a Nimbus and his own whirlpool-jacuzzi bathtub.

Two years later Harry, under a glamour, had successfully set the N.E.W.T.S. and received O's in twenty-nine subjects. After another year and a half he gained Masteries in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Healing. Because Snape had lots of time to school him in these subjects, despite having a full-time job, and understood perfectly all the subtle complexities of raising an abused child genius.

When Harry was eleven, he got his Hogwarts letter. He and Snape couldn't decide whether he should attend as a student, stay home, or apply for the Defense job. Their loyal house elf Weirdy pointed out that staying home wasn't a valid option, as it wouldn't advance the plot. They discussed the remaining options while playing a game of one-on-one Quidditch, and finally concluded that Harry should attend as a student, at least at first, because a Sorting Scene would be too good to pass up.

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**AND NOW, A MUSICAL INTERLUDE.**

We are pleased to present this one and only performance of...

**_Just Because You Wrote a Bloody Haiku in Second Grade Doesn't Mean You Can Rhyme the Sorting, Be-atch!_**

"I am the sorting hat

mcgonagals a cat

I don't use punctuation

Much too your irritation

Use words like brave and loyal,

Or smart and hair-of-oil

Why do I even bother

Too many fics of potter

Have real bad sorting songs

Real, REAL bad sorting songs

Makes me wanna cry

Somewhere deep inside

_-insert random, totally pointless lyrics from a band that writes about the tragedy of human existence here-_

I'd use the word clichéd

But its to advanced, I'm 'fraid

I gots a reputation

Cause I don't feel obligation

To use spell check or rhymezone

So my grammer makes you all moan

Cause I'm the sorting hat

Snape looks like a bat

I'm the sorting hat

It ends where it ends at

Sorting hat, yeah, yeah,

sorting hat.

Merlin, I need a Firewhisky."

**THIS CONCLUDES OUR MUSICAL INTERLUDE.**

_Thank you! And now, back to the OOCness._

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"I read about that in _Hogwarts, A History,_" whispered the bushy-haired girl on Harry's left. McGonagall called her name and as she stepped up to be sorted, Harry took comfort in knowing that some things never changed. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried.

A few minutes later—after Malfoy, Draco had become a Slytherin and Mary, Sue had been escorted from the premises—McGonagall called: "Potter, Gabriel Nathaniel James Sirius Remus Messiah Savior Gryffindor Merlin!"

The crowd tittered.

"SQUIB!" shouted the hat.

The tittering increased exponentially. Albus Dumbledore rose calmly from his chair and strode over to the hat, murmured into the folds where its ear should have been, and held up a wand already fizzling with Avada Kedavra green sparks.

"_—or else,_" Harry heard Dumbledore whisper before returning to his seat.

"COUGH, COUGH, MY SINUSES, COUGH, MUST BE ACTING UP AGAIN, HEH, HEH," the hat boomed. "PERHAPS YOU MISHEARD ME. I SAID... GRYFFINDOR!"

Gryffindor cheered. Slytherin booed. Hufflepuff clapped politely. Ravenclaw was fed up with the nonsense and had already left for a more logically-driven fic—something novel-length with drama, a tight plot and oodles of character development, no doubt. Who needs them anyway? Losers.

"The Snape Formerly Known as Potter, Harry!"

There was approximately three-quarters of as much tittering as before. Not that anyone could tell, as the Ravenclaws were the only ones inane enough to study something as pointlessly muggle as basic arithmetic. Harry clambered up the stool and perched unsteadily, holding the brim of the hat in one hand.

"Hmmm…" said the hat. "You certainly have the makings of a good protagonist. I think I'll put you in with your adoptive father. You certainly don't want to go in with your brother, and Ravenclaw's not really an option anymore—and Slytherin suits you better than Hufflepuff, at least in canon."

_Okay, thanks,_ thought Harry. _But can I ask, since you're the wisest character convenient at the moment, do you know where we're going with this?_

"Not really," the hat replied. "You should wind up being better at everything than your brother, beat him in Quidditch once or twice, and then the plot will either languish as a perpetual WIP or Voldie'll out you as the real Boy-Who-Lived and turn this into something novel-length with drama, a tight plot and oodles of character development."

_But then we'd have to listen to the Ravenclaws._

"You're right, maybe it's just better to leave things be," the hat declared. "This is boring me anyhow. SLYTH—"

And the fic froze in time, forever unfinished, just as it was getting to the good part. Unless I decide to do a sequel. The End.


	4. In Which Harry's Parents Fall in Luv

For Deco, who knew what the next chapter would be about before I posted it, even though it was already written. Freeeeaky._**  
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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written**_**  
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_**In Which Harry's Parents Fall in Luv**_

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"I hate you, James Potter," said Lily Evans, sticking her tongue out. 

"I love you, Lily Evans," said James Potter, dropping to one knee and holding out a handful of enchanted marigolds. "Will you go out with me?"

Lily's unnaturally gorgeous friends Claudia, Ember, Crystal and/or Anastasia, watched enviously, never to be heard from again.

"Why should I go out with _you!?_" Lily screeched. "You're a git! You pranked poor Severus just yesterday!"

"It was a harmless prank spell," James protested, conjuring some tulips and daisies.

"It was a freakin' _Avada Kedavara!_"

"Please relax, love," James soothed. He added some roses and violets to the bouquet. "All it did was knock him over, petrify him, destroy all brain function, and make him start to decompose. Nothing that wouldn't have happened sooner or later."

"Hmm, I suppose," Lily conceded, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. She fluttered her eyelashes delicately. "But why should I go out with you?"

"Because I'm sexy." James held out the bouquet and flashed her a dazzling grin. "What'd ya say, baby?"

"You make a good point." Lily accepted the flowers. "As long as you leave Severus alone from now on."

"Of course, baby!" James slung an arm over her shoulder, steering her towards the astronomy tower. "I won't even go to his funeral!"

In the Great Hall, two first years were cautiously poking the decaying, maggot-ridden corpse of Severus Snape, until Filch came by and shoed them off. Anything that kept the flies away from _him_ was welcome in the castle.

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_P.S. Hey everybody! Glad ya'll like the fic! Just FYI, I could definitely use some suggestions, so feel free to request a scene or seven you'd like to see! I can't promise you'll get it, but if it's a common stereotype or just plain funny and/or stupid, you've got a good shot. :)_


	5. In Which Snape Teaches Creative Writing

Q. Whadda ya call cheese that ain't yours?

A. Nacho cheese! _**  
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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written**

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_**In Which Snape Teaches Creative Writing  
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Dear Diary, 

It was Dumbledore's idea, of course. He discovered fanfiction during a week-long trip to Florida for some sort of conference—the Marriott had free internet access, apparently—and came back bleary-eyed but with all sorts of ideas for instilling a sense of creativity and wonder in our youth.

So he decided to hold a creative writing workshop at Hogwarts, during which the students would write and then submit a short story, preferably based upon their own lives and those of their peers. It was, as Albus' ideas go, almost sane.

And then he decided to put Severus in charge.

The horrors that followed linger still within Hogwarts' hallowed walls. The incident—even now, years later—has never been spoken of again. I, personally, had enough sense to take my first vacation in years that very weekend, so I know little first-hand of what tragedy befell our school.

What little I do know is pieced together from the following assignments, which I was fortunate enough to snatch from Severus' fireplace moments before they burned. I couldn't stand _not_ to see what he wrote to Messers Weasley, honestly.

(In other news, Mrs. Norris has been an absolute _horror_ lately, sticking her nose into my corners of the castle. Hmph. She tries that again, she'll find herself Transfigured into a toad before you can say Quidditch.)

Love, Minnie

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_The Bossy Beaver No One Liked_

_By Draco Malfoy_

_Once upon a time there was a big, ugly beaver named Hermeowny. She was a know-it-all who thought she should be in charge of building the beavers' dam. But when she was bossy to the other beavers, they laughed at her, because she had thick, bushy hair that stuck out worse than Potter's and had taken up with a filthy weasel in the burrow next door. Hermeowny decided that, since she was so smart, she would build her own dam. But she wasn't as smart as she thought she was, and the dam fell down and squished her. The End._

An excellent use of metaphor and wit, Mr. Malfoy, and your use of portmanteau is an appropriate nod to the creative portion of this assignment. Be wary of beginning your sentences with conjunctions, however, lest you be mistaken for an unschooled Gryffindor. _A._

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_Fan Fiction_

_By Neville Longbottom_

_A fan is a muggle artf—artifec—artifact that when waved makes the suroundings cooler by blowing the air around. Some muggles have made fans that run on elekctricity and are mounted to the walls or ci—ceiling of muggle homes. Fiction, however, is found in both muggle and magical worlds, and is writing that is for pleasure and not real. Some examples of famous fictions are __A Tale of Two Cities__, by Charles Dickens, __The Last Kneazle__, by Antonio Whisp, and__ Hamlet__, by William Shakespaere. Fan fiction is a type of fiction that is about fans. When the—_

I cannot begin to comprehend such pathetic incompetence, Longbottom. No part of the assignment asked for half a foot of worthless drivel on the relative merits of muggle inventions or genres. Ten points from Gryffindor for not reading the assignment thoroughly, and twenty more for the utter waste of my time. _F._

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_The Tale of Eleanor Hampton, cont._

_Part XXXIV_

_By Hermione Granger_

…_before the inquisition had come. He gazed through the narrow slats of rotting wood, following her every footstep with his eyes. The long, low branches of the willow kissed her hair with a rustle of leaves, and he held his breath. _

_The moon had been full that night._

_Tonight the sky was wreathed in a storm's shadowed embrace; the first drop of rain felt like ice on Rudolph's skin. He gasped, and she turned, her amber eyes seeking his. _

_"You!" she whispered. He took a step forward. "All… all this time?" She sank to her knees beneath the willow tree, one pale hand clutching her locket. "But then—in the manor! And at the ball! And—my god, William!"_

_Rudolph whirled about, drawing his sword and bringing it forward in one swift movement. It met its foil in a crash of sound and sparks before springing backwards. _

_"You," William hissed. He—_

I refuse to waste any more of my time reading your dissertation on incomparably pointless romantic nonsense, Miss Granger. If—like the Gryffindor know-it-all you are—you expect to be rewarded for blatant deviation from the assignment, you will be waiting a long time. _C-._

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_The Big, Greasy Vampire Who Lived in the Dungeons: A True Story_

_As Told by Draco Malfoy, _

_Slytherin Prat, Git, and All-Around Douchebag_

_Once there was a big greasy vampire who lived in the castle dungeons. His name was—_

_—Smellius Snoop, and he was allergic to shampoo. He stalked the corridors, frightening children and small animals with sensitive noses. _

_And yelling at innocent people who just happened_

_—by unfortunate and totally unforeseen coincidence—_

_to be in his presence. One day Smellius decided it was time to suck some blood—_

_from the poor innocent students and small animals of the school. So he set out from his drafty dungeon domain—_

_—to inflict doom and despair upon those—_

_Hey, can I borrow your quill?_

_No, shhhh! We're testing—_

_—it! It's self-writing, so shut it!_

_…_

_I forget where we were._

_Smellius was about to inflict doom and despair—_

_You aren't going to turn that in, are you?_

_Go away!_

_—upon the innocent children of the school, when suddenly—_

_Shuddup, McGonagall's coming—_

_—Professor McGonagall came, out of the night like a masked avoyeur—_

_It's avenger, honestly—_

_Mr. and Mr. Weasley! Hand over that paper at once. Twenty points—_

_Professor, it's our creative—_

_—writing assignment! You can't just—_

_An assignment that was due this morning, as I recall. Give it here. I'll make sure Professor Snape receives it._

_Aw sh—_

Fifty points from Gryffindor. Detention for the rest of the month with Filch. Be in the Entrance Hall at seven o'clock sharp, both of you, or I will have your gizzards for ingredients and your eyes for olives.

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_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_

_By Harry Potter_

I didn't bother to read past the title, Potter. Is our little celebrity so wrapped up in his fame that he might conceive anyone else having the _slightest _interest in his pathetic misdemeanors? Thirty points from Gryffindor. If you're so determined to spread your fame, Potter, at least have the decency to write under an alias. Of course, that would require you to know more than ten words, and you don't have enough fingers to keep track of them all, now do you? _F--._

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_  
Okay, it wasn't technically a parody. I don't care. Go away. Or review. I can always use more suggestions. And jokes. Really bad jokes.  
_


	6. In Which Harry Becomes the UberPowerful

The British are coming! The British are coming! Here they are!**_  
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**A Brief Summary of Every Harry Potter Fanfiction Ever Written **

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**_In Which Harry Becomes the Uber-Powerful God of Azkaban _**

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Harry was rotting away in the horrible, freezing fortress of Azkaban, a.k.a. Hell on Earth. 

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx

_Overly excessive flashy lines to indicate a flashback sequence because these memories simply cannot be incorporated nicely into the body of the chapter. It's just not done._

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx _  
_

Harry Potter woke up tied, chained, restrained, gagged and otherwise bound to a cold metal chair in the bleak darkness of Courtroom Ten.

"Order, order!" shouted Minister Fudge. Harry—deprived of his glasses—squinted as he tried to make out the faces of the murmuring crowd. "Has the Wizengamot reached a verdict?"

One of the shadowy figures stood and responded. "In the matter of Wizarding Britain versus Harry Potter, we find the defendant guilty of the brutal, unprovoked and unjustifiable murders of no more than one hundred but no less than two minor canon characters, e.g. Dean Thomas, Hagrid and/or the Dursley family."

Harry gasped in shock and shook his head furiously.

"Therefore Mr. Potter is sentenced to multiple lifetimes in Azkaban! Case dismissed!" Fudge banged his gavel on the desk more times than was strictly necessary. It made him feel manly. Harry didn't notice, however, because he was busy having another flashback.

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx

_More overly excessive flashy lines to indicate a flashback sequence within a flashback sequence because these memories simply cannot be incorporated nicely into the body of the actual flashback. It's just not done._

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx _  
_

"YOU'RE A WORTHLESS, DESPICABLE _MURDERER!_" Hermione Granger screeched, spitting into Harry's face as she tore his photo album to shreds.

"YOU'RE A FILTHY, LYING, DEATH-EATING _TRAITOR!_" Ron Weasley shouted, hitting him with his Firebolt before _incendio-ing _it.

While Ginny Weasley led the rest of the Weasley family in a "Down with Harry" parade through the Great Hall, the other students gathered around Harry, the Hufflepuffs throwing fruit, the Ravenclaws throwing dictionaries, the Gryffindors throwing Bludgers and the Slytherins throwing curses at his prone, defenseless body.

"YOU KILLED YOUR PARENTS! AND SIRIUS!" Remus Lupin raged, ripping up Harry's Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map in a fit of lycanthropic rage, despite their sentimental value and the use they could have been towards the war effort.

Albus Dumbledore's eyes were all untwinklyish.

All Harry's other friends—including Hagrid and Dean, if they weren't dead—set fire to his trunk and danced around the flames before burning him in effigy.

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx

_Overly excessive flashy lines, take the third._

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx _  
_

"But you didn't use Veritaserum or Priori Incantatem or even _ask_ me what happened—" Harry would have protested, if he hadn't been gagged and just knocked out by a maliciously grinning Auror.

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx

_The return of the return of the overly excessive flashy lines. They actually are kinda cool looking, aren't they?_

xXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXxXoXxoxXoXx

So Harry spent an indeterminate amount of time in the horror that was Azkaban Prison. There were fifty Dementors outside his cell door every day, despite all canon evidence to the contrary, and he was beaten every other day and only given cold, thin, stale gruel made of boiled rats' intestines once a week.

Because wizards, of course, although belonging to an organized nation, are not bound by such mugglish standards as the Geneva Convention.

Harry had other problems too, the main one being his connection to Voldemort, which kept him up every night screaming in horror and clawing his forehead to bloody shreds as he convulsed under the Cruciatus Curse. But one day, after etching yet another line of his latest haiku into the wall between the drawing of Umbridge as a fermented slug and the one of Ron being eaten by Aragog, he fell into a trance and started floating above the cold, sticky, bug-infested floor, surrounded by a beautiful gold-sapphire-rubyish-emerald aura.

"Hi," said the four powerful figures standing around his mind. "We're the founders of Hog—we mean Azkaban. Yeah, Azkaban. And you're our heir. And also Merlin's heir. So we want to give you super godlike mad-ninja fighting skills."

"Cool beans," said Harry.

Harry, after being scolded for his brief dissent into the American teenage vernacular, started training and learning from the four founders, who had a history and lineage even more magnificent and important than the founders of Hogwarts, despite never being mentioned before now. Anyway, Harry trained and studied and learned from them for years. Godlike Gryffingore taught him wandless, metamorph and animagus magic, plus how to be the best swordsman since Zorro. Hellgal Huff n' Puff taught him martial arts, knife throwing, seventy-two ways to kill a man with your bare hands in two seconds, and how to crochet. Rowinga Ravish-all taught him sex magic and mind magic, and helped him learn to control his elemental, divination and beast-speaker abilities. Slithering Slytheringin taught him parselmagic, battle magic, strategy and everything else he could think of (including a detailed history of the First Battle of Bull Run, the life cycle of a Venus flytrap, two hundred variations on Amortentia and how to make a compass from a magnet, a needle and thread).

The Dementors—which had stopped bothering Harry once he fried their leader and ate him for breakfast with a side of cold, thin rat gruel—didn't effect Harry at all anymore. He contemplated leaving, but knew in his heart that the event would be more climatic if it was perpetrated by either Voldemort or Dumbledore.

So he waited.

And wrote more haikus.

ooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoo

_A completely different set of flashy lines to indicate a change in place rather than time, because it wouldn't do for those things to flow naturally either, now, would it?_

ooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoo_  
_

"HARRY POTTER WAS FRAMED!" well!informed Order member number one shouted to the crowded room. Chaos broke out. Snape, depending on his mood, either said "told you so" and promptly stuck out his tongue out Lupin, who looked horribly contrite, or said "who cares?" and was promptly mauled by Lupin, who looked horribly angry.

Either way, the entire Order raced off to Azkaban to save Harry. They ignored Draco Malfoy, who stood in the doorway looking suitably Reformed and uncharacteristically sheepish, and calling out: "Er, you lot did hear me when I said it was a setup. Right? …Hello?"

ooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoo

_This set of lines indicates a change in both time and place, but because it's not a flashback, we use the same lines as once before rather than a whole new set. Are you beginning to understand this complicated protocol yet?_

ooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoooOo8oOoo

By the time Malfoy got to Azkaban Voldemort was nothing but a smoldering pile of smelly pink ash.

"Why pink?" he asked.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione, Ron, Molly, Ginny, Arthur, Fred, George, Neville, Albus, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, McGonagall and various assorted minor characters screeched. "You've got to forgive us! We're so sorry!"

"You sent me to Azkaban," Harry pointed out wearily.

"But—"

"Without a fair trial."

"But—"

"Or Veritaserum, or interviewing the seven hundred muggle witnesses present who said it was Voldemort rather than the one wizard—and _Death Eater,_ I might add—witness who said it was me."

"But—"

"You even tried to push for the Dementor's Kiss."

"But—"

"And that was even after Voldemort took out a full-page ad in the _Daily Prophet,_ boasting about your gullibility."

"But—"

Harry sighed. "You know what? I don't really care anymore. You can all go to hell." Then he disappeared in a flash of light and a chorus of angelic song.

The Order members began working themselves up into a tizzy. "He's gone! What will we do!? How can we get him to forgive us if he's gone!?"

"Don't worry," Dumbledore replied, his eyes all calm and twinkly again. "We'll get a law passed that says Harry has to return to—"

Another chorus of song announced Harry's rearrival. "—pick up my haikus, of course," he said cheerfully. "I almost forgot." Harry snapped his fingers and the dungeon wall containing his rambling, half-coherent musings—the true aspirations of any good poet, really—shrunk itself and flew into Harry's pocket. Unfortunately, as Harry's room was in the darkest, dampest, deepest part of the prison, this caused Azkaban to collapse on top of the Order. Well, most of the Order."

"Nice shot, Potter," Draco Malfoy complimented his ex-rival.

"Indeed," agreed Severus Snape, who had decided—in true Snape fashion—to come down firmly on Harry's side once it was clear he was going to win. "But I must agree with Mr. Malfoy—why pink?"

"Because it would've pissed him off," Harry explained gently, as if to a pair of two-year-olds.

"Ahhh," the Slytherins answered. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to apparate away, live somewhere with palm trees, warm sand and lots of smoking hot bikini clad women, and write haikus for a living. Listen, here's one:

_There was once an order of birds,_

_Whose betrayal was worse than absurd,_

_Now I dream in bed of the day that they're dead_

_And I'll live the life I would've preferred._"

"That's not a haiku, Harry," Hermione's broken and bleeding body protested with its last feeble, dying breath. "That's a limerick."

"Well, I never claimed it was a _good_ haiku now, did I?" Harry murmured. He linked arms with Draco and Snape, whistling a happy tune as they apparated away to a land where the sun shone bright and warm over dozens of bikini-clad women. They all got laid and therefore, being men, lived happily ever after for the rest of the evening. The End.

* * *

Thanks everyone for the suggestions. They're brilliant and fun to read. Keep 'em coming! 


End file.
